


Bydd Yr Haul Yn Codi

by HeartofMossyStone



Category: Chain of Gold - Fandom, The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Dad!Will, I can't figure out why Will and Math being pals is not more popular, I loved Will in TID but I love him even more in TLH, If you're afraid of good dads, It's totally not weird to be friends with your best friend's dad, Math is Sad, Math is just Will Herondale 2: Electric Boogaloo, Pls let Math know that people value him, TW Referenced Death, TW Self-Hate, TW Welsh, TW alcoholism, Then this is not for you, Will is a good dad, tw anxiety, what's new there?, whether that child is his or NOT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29790978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartofMossyStone/pseuds/HeartofMossyStone
Summary: Math flinched, ready to retort or perhaps storm from the room, but something in Will’s eyes kept him still. The man, beneath his blasé attitude and devil-may-care humor, had always had a strikingly honest and approachable character. And, if he was honest with himself… Math wanted someone to know. He wanted someone to see who and what he was, in hopes that they would hate him, so that he could hate himself a little bit less.Holl amrantau’r sêr ddywedant, Ar hyd y nos. Dyma'r ffordd i fro gogoniant, Ar hyd y nos.
Relationships: Matthew Fairchild & William Herondale
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Bydd Yr Haul Yn Codi

The sun was already dipping low in the sky when Math knocked on the doorframe of Will’s study. The man looked up and grinned. “Math, come in. And close the door behind you, if you don’t mind. I’d like to speak to you privately.”

Math stepped in, shutting the double doors behind him. “If this is about the pudding, it absolutely was not me. If it’s about the library, it probably was not me. If it’s about Lu—” he paused. “—it might have been me.” 

“Actually,” Will gestured for him to take a seat. “It’s about you.”

“Oh!” Math unbuttoned his coat and slouched back onto the sofa. “In that case, it wasn’t me. I haven’t had anything to do with myself for about five years. You might ask James.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head—”

“Dear heavens, I hope not! I try to avoid manual labor whenever possible.”

Will snorted, then waved his hand at Math. “Loath as I am to say these words, there’s something serious I wish to discuss with you.” The mirth in his blue eyes cooled, leaving them seeming darker and more intense. 

Matthew’s blood chilled, the old familiar doubts creeping up inside. Surely, this was it. Surely, this was when he would be found out, told that he was not wanted, informed that the only reason he remained was his  _ parabatai _ bond with James. He fidgeted, his hand moving unbidden to the pocket inside his coat, where he hid his flask. Will did not miss this movement, watching him carefully as he was.

“You remind me of myself, when I was your age, Math. I was…” he took a deep breath. “I was a mess. You know the story. I blamed myself for so much, and I pushed people away, pretending to be a drunkard and general menace.”

Math flashed him a winning smile, trying to bury his fears deep inside. He tugged his flask out of his pocket and, uncapping it, took a long swig, not breaking eye contact with Will the entire time. He screwed the lid back on and leaned forward to slide it to Will across the large oak desk between them. “I’ll tell you this because I trust you, sir: while I appreciate the concern, I  _ am _ perpetually drunk and always a general menace.”

Will picked up the flask and sniffed at it, paling as he caught the scent of strong bourbon. He muttered something Welsh that Math could not make out. Had the circumstances been different, he would have asked about the word, the precise meaning and pronunciation, exactly when to say it that would scandalize the most people, but he couldn’t bring himself to form the usual questions. 

“Don’t worry.” Math smiled again, forcing all of his charm into it. “I don’t drink a lot, just enough to dull the edge and give life a little twinkle, you know?”

Will leaned forward, his hands clasped together, resting on the desk. “I do worry though, Math. I was hoping… with the way you move and speak, that it was just an exaggeration.”

“Why, Mr. Herondale, I didn’t know you paid so much attention to me. I’m almost sorry to tell you that you’re not my type.”

Will stared at him in consternation, before burying his face in his hands. Math heard him mutter something that sounded like  _ please forgive me, Jem _ , before raising his eyes back to Math’s. “It’s like looking in a mirror… I pay attention to you, Matthew, because you’re like a second son to me—”

“You’re going to fight a man in a wheelchair for custody?”

Will leaned forward over the desk. “ _ Matthew _ , please. I worry about you.”

“Please don’t,” Math returned amiably. 

Will slammed his hands down on the desk, just loud enough to startle Math into silence. “Matthew Fairchild, this is important.” He took a deep breath. “I know something is bothering you. If you’ll tell me what it is, I’ll do what I can to help you fix it.” 

“There’s nothing you can do.” Math hissed, the words escaping before he could police himself. “There’s nothing anyone can do.” He deflated. “I couldn’t tell you anyway. It’s my burden.”

“You can trust me, Math. I don’t plan on ratting you out to anyone, not even your mother.” Will grinned wryly. “I’ve been keeping secrets from her since I was twelve. I’m well practiced.” 

Math looked up at Will from under lowered eyelashes—the same look of pleading that he had used when he first begged to be brought to the Institute. “‘The truth is rarely pure and never simple.’”

Will sighed heavily, knowing full well he was not impervious. “Yes, Oscar Wilde. ‘Losing an illusion makes you wiser than finding a truth;’ that’s Ludwig Bӧrne. I’m not asking you to spill your heart to me—I’d rather you didn’t—but I’d prefer you to be happy, and you can’t be when you punish yourself for everything that’s even tangentially related. You’re going to get killed if you keep on like this. Math,  _ I know firsthand _ —”

Math bolted to his feet, looking for all he was worth like a trapped animal. “You don’t know what I’ve done.” His voice was only just louder than a whisper, choked. 

“For James’ sake, if not your own,” Will continued, his eyes shining with understanding. “I know the pain of losing a  _ parabatai _ . There’s nothing worse, and I’m luckier than most.” He rubbed his shoulder, where the mark he shared with Jem had once burned black, now pale and faded as a scar. “I don’t want the same for my son. And,” he paused, “I want better for you.”

Matthew had gone pale, biting his lip as he watched Will warily. “I shouldn’t have done that to him. He deserves better than me.”

“Don’t say that.” In one graceful move, Will rounded the desk and set his hands on Math’s shoulders. “Do not say that, Matthew.”

Math shook him off and stepped back. When he spoke, his voice was more forceful than before, dark with hate. “You don’t  _ know _ what I’ve  _ done. _ ” 

“Then tell me.”

Math flinched, ready to retort or perhaps storm from the room, but something in Will’s eyes kept him still. The man, beneath his blasé attitude and devil-may-care humor, had always had a strikingly honest and approachable character. And, if he was honest with himself… Math wanted someone to know. He wanted someone to see who and  _ what _ he was, in hopes that they would hate him, so that he could hate himself a little bit less. 

He set his jaw. “I destroy  _ everything _ that matters. Everything good breaks when I’m around, and it’s my fault—my choices that cause it. I forced James to be my  _ parabatai _ , did you know that? We didn’t talk about it until after I told you. I latched onto him then, and I’ve been dragging him down ever since. Lucie, too. All my friends.  _ Friends. _ ” He spat the word, looking away. “I’m broken. I’m diseased. There’s some sort of horrible  _ illness _ in my soul, and I  _ wish _ you would stop acting like I’m safe, like I’m  _ worthy  _ of this affection and concern, because I’m not!” His voice had gotten louder with every word, until he was shouting at Will from only a few steps away—curses upon propriety and respect. “Everyone would be better off if you all would only turn your backs and let me drink myself to death!”

Math didn’t register Will’s movement. All he knew was that in one moment, the air around him was empty, lonely, and in the next, there were arms around him, and he was being held in a fierce embrace. He tugged away, but Will didn’t release him.

“Let me go. Let me go! I’ll hurt you too—I’ll kill you too!”

“You said it’s a disease, didn’t you? An evil, terrible disease that hurts the people who care?” Will asked, his voice somewhat muffled. “I’ve had it before, Math, I’m safe from you.”

“You don’t  _ understand _ ,” Math gasped against his chest. “I killed—I killed… I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl… I killed that child. I killed it, Will. I  _ killed _ it. I murdered my sibling. I break  _ everything I touch _ .” 

He tried again to pull away, but the grip around his shoulders was unyielding and so very fatherly. At the thought, guilt welled up in his throat—always guilt. How could he stand here and think that Will was like a father when he had his own father—a perfectly wonderful, excellent father. He was a worthless, ungrateful kind of son. He was a selfish, uncaring sort of  _ parabatai _ . He was a terrible, distant type of friend. He was a broken, evil sort of man. 

Still… How long had it been, he wondered, since someone had held him and refused to let go? How long since it had become rolling eyes, affectionate smacks, and handshakes? He couldn’t fight anymore. He was selfish, and in that selfishness, he allowed himself to lean into Will’s grip, instead of struggling. 

“It’s alright,  _ fy machgen _ , it’s alright. You’re alright.” Will leaned his chin down, resting it on the top of Math’s head. 

And Math shattered a little more, in a way he didn’t know he could. All of the guilt and anger he had shoved down so neatly bubbled up inside him, forcing its way out in the form of tears. He fell limp against Will’s chest, heaving sobs that came from seemingly nowhere. Distantly, he recognized that he ought to be embarrassed, crying like a child in front of a man he admired, but he couldn’t cap his emotions any longer. 

Will eased him down onto the sofa and sat beside him, letting Math keep crying into his shoulder. Every so often, Math would try to speak, only for his words to be cut off by a choking breath or heavy shudder. 

“It’s not your fault, Matthew. You’re so  _ young _ ; you’re just a child. It’s not your fault.  _ Fy machgen _ .” He stoked Math’s hair, whispering in Welsh. “ _ Holl amrantau’r  _ _ sêr ddywedant,  _ _ Ar hyd y nos. Dyma'r ffordd i fro gogoniant, Ar hyd y nos. Golau arall yw tywyllwch, I arddangos gwir brydferthwch. Teulu'r nefoedd mewn tawelwch, Ar hyd y nos. _ ” His voice took on a lyrical tone as he continued, half-singing and half-whispering.

As he finished, Math finally pulled himself away, looking more disheveled than Will had ever seen him, with his golden hair all mussed and his eyes and nose flushed red. He sniffed and looked away. “What does it mean?” 

Will smiled and held out his handkerchief. “It means there’s hope. It means that the people here love you and care about you, no matter how you try to push them away.”

Math accepted the handkerchief, though all he seemed willing to do with it was crumple it in his fists nervously. When he looked back up at Will, the defiant wall was back up behind his eyes. “I’m not your son. You have a son and I have a father.” 

Will’s smile widened. “By all technicalities, James is halfway your father’s son and you’re halfway mine. You’re  _ parabatai _ , no? Brothers by bond?”

“Well,” Math narrowed his eyes. “I hope you don’t expect me to waltz in here and cry at your feet every time I’m sad.”

“Please don’t.” Will agreed. “I haven’t the nerves for it.” But even as he said it, he eyed the boy fondly. “Are you feeling better?”

Math looked as though he was about to give a sharp retort, but he stopped himself. “Yes. And no. There’s so much that I told you, and so much more still. I feel, sometimes, that I’m drowning.” 

“You don’t have to tell me,  _ fy machgen _ . Not if you don’t want to. But now that I know a part of it, if you ever want to talk, my door is open. Letting your emotions out once won’t heal you, but I won’t let you go. I won’t let you disappear.” Will stood and retreated to the other side of his desk, sitting back down in the large chair. “And, in the meantime—” he lifted Math’s flask, “I’ll be keeping this.”

Math deflated. “A kidnapper  _ and _ a thief. You know I’ll just get another one.”

Will blinked at him, smiling cheerfully. “I’ll confiscate that too. I should have a lovely little collection before too long. I can put them all in a glass case, with placquarded dates: ‘Yes, this is from when my son’s  _ parabatai _ gave himself alcohol poisoning in March, but if you look, you’ll see that—not even a week later—he was back at the bottle!’”

Math snorted as he rose, waving Will’s handkerchief in the air. “I’m keeping this, then. Consider it a hostage.” He headed toward the hallway, pulling the double doors open. As he set his foot down on the threshold, though, he paused. “ _ Diolch, Gwilym _ .”

Math could feel the warm approval Will was directing towards his back as he replied: “ _ Croeso, fy machgen. _ ”

Holl amrantau'r sêr ddywedant

(Every star in heaven is singing)

Ar hyd y nos

(All through the night)

"Dyma'r ffordd i fro gogoniant,"

(Hear the glorious music ringing)

Ar hyd y nos.

(All through the night)

Golau arall yw tywyllwch

(Songs of sweet ethereal lightness)

I arddangos gwir brydferthwch

(Wrought in realms of peace and whiteness)

Teulu'r nefoedd mewn tawelwch

(See, the dark gives way to brightness)

Ar hyd y nos.

(All through the night)

**Author's Note:**

> Bore da!
> 
> Song lyrics are from 'Ar Hyd Y Nos,' a traditional Welsh hymn, sometimes used as a lullaby. Translation is courtesy of LyricsTranslate.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. I've written a few ChoG pieces now (though this is the first one I'm posting) and for *some reason* they all end up being about Math. Maybe I Love Him. This is the result of a long conversation with a friend, wherein we ridiculed Math for acting like he's a Jem-Type and James is a Will-Type, when Math is so clearly like Will. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm very excited for ChoI, though I shan't hesitate to deem everything Cassie says as Not-Canon, should such a thing be necessary. You can expect more Math content from me, as well as P L E N T Y of LuJess, because I love them. 
> 
> Ta-ta tan toc!
> 
> PS: I have had this tab open on my computer for 24 hours and, in that time, I have managed to switch allegiance from LuJess to LuMath... so you can expect that from me.


End file.
